For Ruth

Over Thanksgiving my Grandfather's wife, my Step-grandmother, Ruth, passed away. Ruth was always very kind to everyone. She always had a smile, even when her own health began to deteriorate. She was always very well put-together, as most women of her era were. Her hair was stark white and always curled with tiny little loops that framed her features. She was always eager to help out in the kitchen and would often espouse the benefits of certain foods, like broccoli or spinach. "Eight almonds a day will prevent cancer," she once told me when my then fiance and I stopped in on a drive back home for Christmas. True to her word, she provided the necessary nutrition at breakfast, a little cluster of raw almonds nestled on each napkin. She was honest, wholesome, cheerful, and caring. I once had the pleasure of hosting her for dinner at my little house in Cardiff, but she refused to sit by and be served and insisted on helping out with the salad, as the least she could do. And so, for Ruth, I say thank you, god bless, and watch over us from your inevitable perch in heaven, where the clouds are rivaled only by your own, white curls.

My Little Park

Most of my work day lunches are spent reading. Occasionally, I will tag along with "the ladies" from work, or meet an old friend for the Indian buffet, but usually I eat alone, save the company of my latest novel of choice.

There are some single-eater-reader friendly establishments in driving distance, such as Panera or Boston Market, but mostly the restaurants in the area give off an angry and resentful vibe if you decide to take up a whole table by yourself leaving sometimes as many as three seats empty beside you. Seats that could be filled, in the eyes of management, by hungry, and social, patrons.

So, more often than not, I retrieve a to go meal from any number of fast food joints and head to My Little Park.

My Little Park is a wonderful little sanctuary in the middle of California suburbia that is relatively unknown by the local lunch crowd. It is usually crowded not with the hustle and bustle of corporate individuals but with the greedy geese, ducks, and various other fowl seeking a donated morsel here and there. This park is peopled with other lone diners, such as myself, but also with stay-at-home moms that bring their infants to see the giant, white geese that can look them in the eye, with dog-walkers, joggers, picnickers, and the occasionally present middle-aged man with his mandolin and music stand.

Today I really examined my little park again, something I haven't done in too long. There are more geese now. I don't know how the word gets out, but the range from the standard, but very large, white geese with stark yellow bills, to gorgeous and elegant brown, black, and white geese with devastatingly elegant black bills to match their black, webbed feet. There are also bizarre little geese, I assume, with black and white splotchy feathers and giant red bills with huge protrusions on them that appear unhealthy, but they all have them, so it must be natural. The ducks have been bullied into shy numbers, but they still manage to always stay in pairs, swimming side by side with their loved ones, or walking in the shade of the trees searching for unexpecting insects.

The seagulls came back today as well. They are a less frequent visitor, but they always announce their arrival with great fanfare. Screeching and hollering until they are noticed and then circling to the ground in great concentric circles as a group, landing one at a time as if there were an approach pattern. Today one of them caught a fish from the little pond to one side of the parking lot. He couldn't determine how it should be eaten, though, because it was flat and wide, so wide that the seagull could not fit it in his mouth.

The pace of My Little Park is so laid back and calm that it is not uncharacteristic for a duck to waddle out into the middle of the road and fluff out his feathers to settle on the warm, black roadway. When traffic comes through, they angrily shake themselves to a standing position and then, with great agitation, meander out of the way. I have seen a dozen of them do this at one time. Today I saw what I believe was a duck sleeping. It was resting on one leg with the other curled up under its wings and its head and neck folded into the feathers on its back. Its little eye was closed (the one that I could see) and it was shaking and jerking the same way my cat does when she is having a dream, undoubtedly catching that pesky little grasshopper that stays just out of her reach on the window to the patio.

There are rabbits and squirrels, as well, and I once was watching a little squirrel forage for bugs or seeds in the grass when, to both of our shock and surprise, a hawk swooped down and grabbed him up for lunch. There are crows that circle and try to snatch away the daily catch of the seagulls, when they are in town, or the hawk, when she lets them, and they will also take leftovers when prompted. I gave several of them an apple core once, walked about ten feet away, and waited to see how long it would be before they would trust me and take the apple. The one that did picked it up and moved it another few feet away before eating it with his eyes always on me.

In this crazy, busy, lightning-paced world of Corporate America, it is especially nice to have a little park that is all mine, a world apart, and yet still close enough for my lunch break.

Suspension of Disbelief Or, You Know, Common Sense

The other night SPF and I were watching The Incredibles DVD extras (because we just bought the movie) and at one point there are some deleted scenes that were written into the original story board that they quasi-animate for the DVD. I want to stress that these are not really animated, they are the original story boards that were put together in animation style to be viewed by the public without too much extra work. So, basically, they are sketches that have been strung together.

At one point, I became entrenched in the story. Despite the quality of the "animation," despite the fact that it was animated, I was involved.

The villain, who at this point has our heroes suspended in mid-air and paralyzed, hears, coming from the back bedroom, an infant's cry. He turns to the heroes and says "Don't you know that's illegal? Supers aren't allowed to breed!"

At which point I turned to SPF and said "Is that true?"

To which he could only reply by physically turning his body towards me to stare at me in disbelief until I understood my own ridiculous folly and laughed so hard that I actually injured my jaw and the corners of my mouth from strain.

Unbelievable.

Ads, Yikes

I must have been desperate for some monetary contribution from the massive amount of typing that goes into blogging, so I signed up for the Ad thing. I know, I know, but it might actually lead to something...

Today I saw two ads on my blog that actually make sense. One for a San Diego based photographer, and one for Brooks!! I just thought that was interesting. Go content appropriate ads!!

The Storm

I had an overwhelming urge last night to play piano. This happens every once in a while because, after 12 years of study, it is in my bones. Usually I have heard a song on the radio that has heavy ivory elements, such as something by Cold Play, Muse, or Fiona Apple, but yesterday there was no instigating incident. I think that works in my favor, mostly because if I have heard another passionate musician I want to be equally passionate, equally talented, and, having not played for too long, I usually lack the precision that must precede gusto.

Last night, however, despite my unfamiliar hands and my dusty keys, I sat down and played. I ran into problems, referenced the sheet music, worked through any areas that were particularly difficult, and finally reached a place where I could play.

It was moving. It was cathartic. It reminded me of a deep creative passion that I once had in spades. I think that this decision, this photographic pursuit, has opened that vein once again. It has been a while since I faced something with the energy that comes with a passionate pursuit. I had that passion when I shot my abstract work for the Period Gallery with SPF. I had that passion at my last piano concert ever. I had that passion when I directed.

The blood is flowing, my friends. The pulse quickening, and the eyes of creative pursuit fluttering open again. I will shed this gray skin once and for all, I will emerge victorious, a phoenix from the ashes of Corporate America, spreading my vibrant and colorful wings into the glory that is my own passion. I will be a photographer.

Breakthrough

I had an emotional breakthrough today. I am terrified of Brooks. (This is not the breakthrough) but I am MORE terrified of NOT going to Brooks. For tons of reasons. I don't want to resent myself, my SPF, my kids...even though it would be only MY choice if I did not go. I don't want to say "what if...?" "if only..." or "I could have..." in regards to my career. This is the life that I want. I am afraid because it will be a long and hard road, but this is what I want to do. That is actually a huge breakthrough because I have been focusing so much on whether or not I want to even go, as opposed to searching the reasons behind my concerns and my fears. Yay!!! Okay, thanks.

If this makes no sense to you, don't worry.

If this makes perfect sense to you, then I probably owe you an apology for telling you that you didn't know what you were talking about. (You know who you are.)

The Scholarhip Search Begins

I have an account on a Scholarship search website now. I am actually REALLY excited about this. I think I have a really good chance of getting money from some of these sources to help pay for my second education. I am going to try and be really diligent about these. I will let you know what I am applying for and when and then what I hear. YAY!!!

CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE!!!

I am about to explode. It is official now. I have given notice at my job. I have signed the enrollment agreement. I am going to the Brooks Institute of Photography in May.

Eeeep!!

I have been somewhat out of sorts since I told my boss. She took it very well, at first, and was very supportive and told me that she knows that this is what I want to do and was very happy for me. She is actually a fan of my work, having seen some of the engagement photos that I did for a friend. It was later on in the day when she started to hyperventilate, so I know that not only does she really support me from her instinctual reaction, but she also respects my corporate contributions. I will miss her.

But I think, and she agrees, that I would regret not trying more than I would regret failing and returning to the corporate world, to which I always have at least two standing job offers. That is not only encouraging, but also motivating, because I actually have nothing to lose!! With the exception, of course, of the tens of thousands of dollars of tuition. Posh. No worries there!

My stock is also doing very well right now, which means that I also have a nice little cash pile to fall into in case anything goes horribly wrong. But our luck has to change now (knock on wood) it has been almost a year of frustration and insult upon injury, but things seem to be looking up at last!!! The wall is being diligently installed, our house seems stable, Jimmy is still tarped off and protected, the cats are healthy, family is in good spirits, so maybe we are on the up swing. (Knock on wood, Knock on Wood!)

At any rate, friends, it is time that I told the world, because hiding in my little secret world is starting to wear on me. So now you all know. It is a sure thing, no matter how many times I pinch myself to ensure alertness and sanity.